Because I could not stop for Death

Related poetry:

1. If I can stop one Heart from breaking If I can stop one Heart from breaking I shall not live in vain If I can ease one Life the Aching Or cool one Pain Or help one fainting Robin Unto his Nest again I shall not live in Vain....
2. Non-Stop It seemed as if the enormous journey Was finally approaching its conclusion. From the window of the train The last trees were dissipating, A child-like sailor waved once, A seal-like dog barked and died. The conductor entered the lavatory And was not seen again, although His harmonica-playing was appreciated. He was not without talent, some […]...
3. The Death Of Santa Claus He’s had the chest pains for weeks, But doctors don’t make house Calls to the North Pole, He’s let his Blue Cross lapse, Blood tests make him faint, Hospital gown always flap Open, waiting rooms upset His stomach, and it’s only Indigestion anyway, he thinks, Until, feeding the reindeer, He feels as if a monster […]...
4. Rondeau at the Train Stop It bothers me: the genital smell of the bay Drifting toward me on the T stop, the train Circling the city like a dingy, year-round Christmas display. The Puritans were right! Sin Is everywhere in Massachusetts, hell-bound In the population. it bothers me Because it’s summer now and sticky – no rain To cool things […]...
5. You Ask Why Sometimes I Say Stop You ask why sometimes I say stop Why sometimes I cry no While I shake with pleasure. What do I fear, you ask, Why don’t I always want to come And come again to that molten Deep sea center where the nerves Fuse open and the brain And body shine with a black wordless light […]...
6. The Death-Bed He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls; Aqueous like floating rays of amber light, Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep. Silence and safety; and his mortal shore Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death. Someone was holding water to his mouth. He swallowed, unresisting; […]...
7. The Little Ghost I knew her for a little ghost That in my garden walked; The wall is high-higher than most- And the green gate was locked. And yet I did not think of that Till after she was gone- I knew her by the broad white hat, All ruffled, she had on. By the dear ruffles round […]...
8. Dream Song 127: Again, his friend's death made the man sit still Again, his friend’s death made the man sit still And freeze inside—his daughter won first price— His wife scowled over at him— It seemed to be Hallowe’en. His friend’s death had been adjudged suicide, Which dangles a trail Longer than Henry’s chill, longer than his loss And longer than the letter that he wrote That […]...
9. There's been a Death, in the Opposite House There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House, As lately as Today I know it, by the numb look Such Houses have alway The Neighbors rustle in and out The Doctor drives away A Window opens like a Pod Abrupt mechanically Somebody flings a Mattress out The Children hurry by They wonder if it died […]...
10. I went to Heaven I went to Heaven ‘Twas a small Town Lit with a Ruby Lathed with Down Stiller than the fields At the full Dew Beautiful as Pictures No Man drew. People like the Moth Of Mechlin frames Duties of Gossamer And Eider names Almost contented I could be ‘Mong such unique Society...
11. Death Death is a road our dearest friends have gone; Why with such leaders, fear to say, “Lead on?” Its gate repels, lest it too soon be tried, But turns in balm on the immortal side. Mothers have passed it: fathers, children; men Whose like we look not to behold again; Women that smiled away their […]...
12. When Roses cease to bloom, Sir When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun The hand that paused to gather Upon this Summer’s day Will idle lie in Auburn Then take my flowers pray!...
13. Bus Stop Lights are burning In quiet rooms Where lives go on Resembling ours. The quiet lives That follow us – These lives we lead But do not own – Stand in the rain So quietly When we are gone, So quietly. . . And the last bus Comes letting dark Umbrellas out – Black flowers, black […]...
14. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
15. The Jay his Castanet has struck The Jay his Castanet has struck Put on your muff for Winter The Tippet that ignores his voice Is impudent to nature Of Swarthy Days he is the close His Lotus is a chestnut The Cricket drops a sable line No more from yours at present...
16. The World feels Dusty The World feels Dusty When We stop to Die We want the Dew then Honors taste dry Flags vex a Dying face But the least Fan Stirred by a friend’s Hand Cools like the Rain Mine be the Ministry When they Thirst comes And Hybla Balms Dews of Thessaly, to fetch...
17. The Death Bed We watch’d her breathing thro’ the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. But when the morn came dim and sad And chill with early showers, Her queit eyelids closed – she had Another morn than ours....
18. Bring me the sunset in a cup Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps Tell me what time the weaver sleeps Who spun the breadth of blue! Write me how many notes there be In the new Robin’s ecstasy Among astonished boughs How many trips […]...
19. Death is a Dialogue between Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death The Spirit “Sir I have another Trust” Death doubts it Argues from the Ground The Spirit turns away Just laying off for evidence An Overcoat of Clay....
20. A Death – Scene “O day! he cannot die When thou so fair art shining! O Sun, in such a glorious sky, So tranquilly declining; He cannot leave thee now, While fresh west winds are blowing, And all around his youthful brow Thy cheerful light is glowing! Edward, awake, awake – The golden evening gleams Warm and bright on […]...
21. It came at last but prompter Death It came at last but prompter Death Had occupied the House His pallid Furniture arranged And his metallic Peace Oh faithful Frost that kept the Date Had Love as punctual been Delight had aggrandized the Gate And blocked the coming in....
22. Whispers of Heavenly Death WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur’d I hear; Labial gossip of night-sibilant chorals; Footsteps gently ascending-mystical breezes, wafted soft and low; Ripples of unseen rivers-tides of a current, flowing, forever flowing; (Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human tears?) I see, just see, skyward, great cloud-masses; Mournfully, slowly they roll, silently […]...
23. It was not Death, for I stood up It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues, for Noon. It was not Frost, for on my Flesh I felt Siroccos crawl Nor Fire for just my Marble feet Could keep a Chancel, cool And yet, it […]...
24. At Home When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested, and they laughed, For each was loved of each. I […]...
25. Her Death And After ‘TWAS a death-bed summons, and forth I went By the way of the Western Wall, so drear On that winter night, and sought a gate The home, by Fate, Of one I had long held dear. And there, as I paused by her tenement, And the trees shed on me their rime and hoar, I […]...
26. At Algeciras – A Meditaton Upon Death The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden trees Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas. Often at evening when a boy Would I carry to a friend – Hoping more substantial joy […]...
27. Opposition Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, Complain no more; for these, O heart, Direct the random of the will As rhymes direct the rage of art. The lute’s fixt fret, that runs athwart The strain and purpose of the string, For governance and nice consort Doth bar his wilful wavering. The dark hath […]...
28. Going for Water The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran; Not loth to have excuse to go, Because the autumn eve was fair (Though chill), because the fields were ours, And by the brook our woods […]...
29. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 10: Sudden Death ‘Number four-the girl who died on the table- The girl with golden hair-‘ The purpling body lies on the polished marble. We open the throat, and lay the thyroid bare. . . One, who held the ether-cone, remembers Her dark blue frightened eyes. He heard the sharp breath quiver, and saw her breast More hurriedly […]...
30. Death, To The Dead For Evermore DEATH, to the dead for evermore A King, a God, the last, the best of friends – Whene’er this mortal journey ends Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door; Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn Disturbs the eternal sleep, But in the stillness far […]...
31. The House with Nobody in It Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black. I suppose I’ve passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for A minute And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in It. I never have seen […]...
32. THE DEATH OF ART “Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be rich and buy things for my family. Besides, I am sort of popular and can honestly say I’ve had a great […]...
33. Such, Such Is Death Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat: Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, A merciful putting away of what has been. And this we know: Death is not Life, effete, Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen So marvellous things know well the end not yet. Victor and vanquished are […]...
34. The Tint I cannot take is best The Tint I cannot take is best The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar A Guinea at a sight The fine impalpable Array That swaggers on the eye Like Cleopatra’s Company Repeated in the sky The Moments of Dominion That happen on the Soul And leave it with a Discontent Too […]...
35. For The Anniversary Of My Death Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me And the silence will set out Tireless traveller Like the beam of a lightless star Then I will no longer Find myself in life as in a strange garment Surprised at the earth And the love of […]...
36. Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winter The west was getting out of gold, The breath of air had died of cold, When shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alight. In summer when I passed the place I had to stop and lift my face; A bird with an angelic gift Was singing in it sweet and […]...
37. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
38. Truce It begins with one or two soldiers And one or two following With hampers over their shoulders. They might be off wildfowling As they would another Christmas Day, So gingerly they pick their steps. No one seems sure of what to do. All stop when one stops. A fire gets lit. Some spread Their greatcoats […]...
39. On The Death Of Sir Thomas Lea You that affright with lamentable notes The servants from their beef, whose hungry throats Vex the grume porter’s surly conscience: That blesse the mint for coyning lesse than pence: You whose unknown and meanly payd desarts Begge silently within, and knocke at hearts: You whose commanding worth makes men beleeve That you a kindnesse give […]...
40. Heart, not so heavy as mine Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune A careless snatch a ballad A ditty of the street Yet to my irritated Ear An Anodyne so sweet It was as if a Bobolink Sauntering this way Carolled, and paused, and carolled Then bubbled slow away! […]...